


Truth or Dare?

by Sherlock1110



Series: Random one shots [12]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Brotherly Love, Fluff, Gen, M/M, super fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 07:56:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7631557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlock1110/pseuds/Sherlock1110
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically there's a storm and the boys, John and Sherlock, are stuck inside. Completely bored, Sherlock looks up something for them to do on the internet. Truth or Dare looks pretty interesting.</p>
<p>Bonus points if someone else is stuck in there with them. Anyone really.</p>
<p>(And basically far more extravagant than all that just for the sake of fluff)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Beta read by sherlockian4evr

Sherlock glanced out of the window, sighing as the dull and grey clouds swarmed over London.

"John?"

The doctor appeared from the kitchen. "Yeah?"

Sherlock suddenly ran at him, engulfing him in a hug.

"What the hell, 'Lock?" He held him for as long as Sherlock wanted, the detective soon stepped back and went back to the window. "Are you scared of the storm approaching Sherlock?"

"Nope." He popped the p and poked his tongue out at the older man as they heard the downstairs door go.

"That's your brother, isn't it?"

Sherlock grinned. "How did you know?"

"Well, apart from us, the only people with a key to 221 is Mrs. Hudson and Mycroft." Sherlock's eyebrows rose questioningly. "Well, I dropped Mrs. Hudson off at the airport about 6 hours ago so unless her plane has landed in the street…"

The detective laughed. "Great powers of deduction, John."

"He is capable of learning then," said Mycroft from the door after hearing the tail end of the conversation. "I wish mine was."

"Hey!" Came a rather high pitched yell from behind the government official. He ducked as Greg clipped him on the back of the head.

"What are you doing here, Mycroft?" Sherlock demanded as he collapsed into his seat.

"I invited them," John replied before Mycroft could.

"But that means you didn't deduce it at all!"

The doctor's chuckle travelled in from the kitchen. "Dinner's on, you lot."

Sherlock stood to cross the room. He snuck into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around his husband. "That smells… edible."

John hit him with the tea towel he was holding. "Don't be rude."

"I wasn't… that was a compliment."

They were put off from their 'couple' moment by the sound of a phone ringing.

"Mycie," Sherlock complained immediately. He knew it was his brother's, recently - since dating Mycroft - the DI had begun to switch his phone off when he was off duty.

The ringing stopped and the government official stepped into the hall to answer it.

When he stepped back in, he sighed. "The manor has been broken into, Sherlock."

The younger brother frowned. "And?"

"And? It's worth about 100million with contents that no doubt double the worth. It's our inheritance."

"It's boring."

"Even you have to admit having 100million would be pretty handy."

Sherlock sighed, "Have you got to go?"

"Yes. And so do you."

"But… but… John's cooking," he finished lamely. He didn't really want to go outside. He wasn't fond on storms and one was close, it was obvious even without watching that annoying weather woman. He also didn't really want Mycroft to leave… not that he was going to say any of that.

"Sod the dinner," John called through when the smoke alarm sounded.

Greg chuckled. "Looks like it's take-out."

"On the way to the manor," Mycroft added.

"I swear I've made that before… I just think… Sherlock, what did you put in the salt jar?"

"Oops," he raced to the door and grabbed his coat as he went.

Following the two younger men Greg and Mycroft burst out laughing. "They were so meant for each other," the DI gasped out.

Mycroft took his hand, dragging him down the stairs. "As were we."

***

Sat in the back of Mycroft's stupidly expensive Hummer, Sherlock watched London pass by. He was so amused by the slight trickling of rain, he didn't even notice when the car stopped outside Angelo's and drove off again.

After the password at the gate, Sherlock watched the familiar grass lawn of the manor. Suddenly he leant forward and smacked the microphone button. "Stop the car."

As soon as it had pulled to a halt, the detective jumped out and wandered back a bit.

John poked his head out the window. "Sherlock it's going to piss it down any moment. I'd rather be inside the house than sat out here with a sulking, soaking wet teenage husband."

Sherlock barked a laugh. "Just tell my brother to get his fat arse out here."

"Being rude again."

He laughed again. "I know. I meant it that time."

Mycroft begrudgingly joined him. "What is it, baby brother?" He would much rather be inside with John and Greg.

"Foot prints. To this spot and then back again. And a clear ball shaped outline."

Mycroft had to stop himself from smirking. "You mean…"

"Some kid climbed the fence because they kicked their ball over, nothing to do with the manor being broken into by high class thieves."

"We should probably have measures put in place if a 12, no, 11 year old can climb it."

Sherlock nodded, turning his coat collar up.

"That doesn't make you look cool after you've made a deduction, you know, little brother?"

The younger Holmes turned his nose up as he headed back to the stationed vehicle. "I'm protecting myself from the wind," he threw over his shoulder.

As Mycroft climbed in, John pointed to his umbrella he'd left on one of the spare seats. "Do you only carry that thing to look impressive and to point it at people?"

At his confused look Greg continued. "It's an umbrella," he ruffled Mycroft's hair, splashing raindrops around. "It's primary function is to keep you dry."

"No. I prefer pointing it at people."

***

John couldn't believe it. He'd opened the manor door when Mycroft had thrown him the key and it was like Sherlock had entered a portal to another world.

He pushed passed John which admittedly was fairly normal and then he took off down the hall at the fastest pace he'd ever seen him run at.

"What the hell?" He asked as Sherlock yelled out 'weeeeeeee'

"Wait for it," Mycroft cautioned, pointing to the stairs to the left of John.

The sound of thudding above them came to a halt and then another 'weeeeeee' as Sherlock slid down the banister and landed at the doctor's feet, panting.

"You're a lunatic," Mycroft called after him as he went through one door.

"Why did he-" the DI started, but Mycroft cut him off.

"Our parents never allowed us to run inside… it was the first thing he did when we were told our parents were moving north. In fact, then he did it over and over and over until he was wiped out on the floor."

At the sound of thunder outside an actual scream came from the direction Sherlock had gone in.

"Shut up Mycroft," Sherlock demanded from the kitchen table.

"I haven't said anything, little brother." He placed the food on the table beside him.

Sherlock lunged for the bag immediately.

"Did you check the second floor?" His brother asked.

The youngest Holmes glared. "No. Why would I do that?"

"In case… oh never mind." Mycroft joined them at the table, dragging Greg by the hand.

The sound of thunder crashed overhead again and Sherlock jumped into John's lap.

John kissed the back of his neck. "Child." He reached over and snatched up a lump of chicken, pushing it between Sherlock's lips. "Eat."

***

It wasn't long before they found themselves in the sitting room with beer.

"We should probably go back to Baker Street," Sherlock pointed out.

"Why? We own this place, it's about time we enjoy it."

"Admit, it, big brother, you just don't want to go outside incase you get wet without your umbrella."

"I would never let my umbrella get wet."

"Bored!" Sherlock declared, changing the conversation dramatically. 

Mycroft sighed, he'd been waiting on that declaration for over an hour.

"All the games we had as children are still upstairs, Sherlock."

"They're boring."

"Of course they are," Mycroft sighed. "Well, I'm not going out in this weather, so you can quit sulking."

Sherlock pushed himself to his feet and walked over to him. "Where's your iPad?"

"On the kitchen table. Do not break it."

"I dread what he's going to do with it," John put in.

It was nearly an hour before Sherlock reappeared.

"What have you done?" John asked immediately.

"I've found a game."

John sat back and patted his lap. Sherlock sunk down to it with a grin. 

"What game then?"

"Truth or dare."

"No. No, no, no."

"Why not?" Sherlock asked, not deterred. "It looks like an awesome game!"

John sighed, despite the argument being in its early stages he knew he wouldn't win.

"Fine."

Sherlock's grin was so wide it was worth it just to see the look on his face.

"Myc's turn first."

"Alright then. Truth or dare?"

"You already know the game?"

"Everyone does, 'Lock. Now truth or dare?"

"Truth," he responded, surprising all three other men.

"Was it you who stole my smurfs when I started Eton?"

John bit his lip to stop himself from bursting out laughing.

"It wasn't fair, you went away! Left me with Mummy for ages."

"So you admit it?!"

"Yes. Yes I admit it. I was 3! They're probably still in my room."

John couldn't hold it anymore. Especially after he had glanced at the DI. They both burst out laughing, the doctor even slid down the couch.

"Next!" Sherlock demanded.

"Your go," John nudged him in the ribs, still panting.

"Truth or dare?" He asked his husband.

"Truth."

"Were you gay before you met me?"

It took a long time for John to answer. "No. Yes. I don't know. I was a very confused child. My sister has been gay since before I can remember."…

The detective leant down to kiss him. "I forgive you. My go again!"

"That's not the way it works, 'Lock," the doctor patted him on the thigh."

"But I want to."

"Fine."

"Gavin, truth or dare?"

"Greg," he growled, holding Mycroft's hand in his own. "And dare."

"Oooh," John patted the sofa to give an air of surprise.

"I dare you to go in old nan's haunted room."

"Sherlock," Mycroft warned.

"What? It's a dare.

Greg looked between the brothers in confusion. "Haunted?"

"So Sherlock says."

"Hey! You saw it too."

"I don't know what I saw!" He snapped back.

"We're Holmeses. We believe what we see. It was old nan, but she'd been dead for 10 years."

"If it was old nan how could she have told us about the ghost in the room? It makes no sense, little brother."

Sherlock stood up and folded his arms, making a point of huffing. "If it makes no sense, you won't mind your boyfriend going inside."

Mycroft glanced at said boyfriend… he was a member of New Scotland Yard. A well respected experienced member. "Fine," he agreed with an incline of his head. "But we're going too. It's on the third floor and Sherlock might get scared of the thunder if we leave him here."

He poked his tongue out at his older brother and ran off ahead. "I'm not afraid of anything."

"Except me!" John yelled after him.

"Yes, except you!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlockian4evr saved this fic!

Greg was stood outside Old Nan's room. His hand had been hovering over the door handle for what seemed like forever. 

Behind him, Mycroft stood to the side, leant against the wall and pretending not to care.

Sherlock had his husband's hand in his and was gripping it so hard, that if John wasn't a doctor, he would have expected his fingers to fall off. 

Counting down from 10, the DI prepared himself. 

"3."

"2."

"1."

Greg shoved the door in on one only for a loud clanging to interrupt his path and a plastic bottle to fall off a shelf and bounce off his shoulder. 

Both the Holmeses burst out laughing as Mycroft reached out to flick the light on. 

It immediately became clear that Greg had opened a cupboard door - a rather large cupboard door - but a cupboard door all the same. 

"You sods!"

Sherlock and Mycroft took off, cackling, back down the stairs and then the next set until they were back in the front room again. 

"My turn!" Greg demanded, marching into the sitting room and plonking down on Mycroft's lap. 

The government official grunted. "Alright, dear."

The DI smirked at his tone. "Sherlock, truth or dare?"

"Why do I have to pick one?"

Greg rolled his eyes. "Don't be a twat. Truth or dare?"

"Dare."

Humming to himself for a moment, the DI produced an evil glare. "I dare you to put your hand down John's pants until your next go."

"What-" he spluttered, expecting the doctor to protest, but he just giggled. 

"You're an evil man, Inspector."

"What?" He innocently asked of the blond. "I never said he had to touch anything. You've got 5 seconds to get your hand down his pants or you fail."

Sherlock smirked and shuffled closer to the older man, then without further ado he shoved his hand down John's pants. 

John bucked briefly and stilled. "Oi!" He hissed when Sherlock twisted his hand. "Gregory Lestrade, I hate you."

The DI laughed. "You'd hate me even more if I stood up and left the room. He'd have his hand down there for hours."

"Shut up and move on."

"Mycroft, truth or dare."

The older Holmes eyed him suspiciously, he half expected his dare to put his hands down his own boyfriend's pants. "Dare."

"Ok. First, I need you to answer a question and it has to be an honest answer."

"I'd never lie to you, Gregory."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Anyway, what is a language that you do not speak?"

Mycroft thought for a moment and knew he couldn't lie, Sherlock would know and the sod would blurt it out. "Greek."

"I dare you to change the settings on your phone to Greek and translate the message I will send you."

Mycroft frowned, "But I don't speak Greek…"

"Sherlock told me it took you a couple of hours to learn Serbian."

"And you're giving me how long?"

"An hour."

"Why only an hour?"

"Because I know you speak Latin. I know for a fact the Greek and Latin languages have many links."

Huffing, Mycroft handed his phone over for the younger man. Greg routed through the settings until he came across the languages and soon set about changing it. 

Greg then turned on John before anyone else could speak. 

"Truth or dare, Doctor Watson?"

Slightly concerned, he whispered, "Dare."

"I dare you to 'take a toilet selfie' and post it on your blog."

"Surprised you even know what a selfie is, old man."

The DI just winked. "Go on then."

"Do I need to be sat on the loo? Or having a piss? What?"

Clearly thinking for a moment, Greg smirked. "Sat down."

"And what about Sherlock's hand down my pants?"

Greg's smirk turned into a laugh. 

"John, you need to have your go with him," Mycroft looked up from where he was concentrating on his phone. 

"Ok, Sherlock," he said hurriedly, the idea having the picture on his blog wasn't a great one, but the quicker it was over and done with, the better, nothing was stopping him from deleting it when they left, "truth or dare."

"Dare."

The doctor made a point of pulling his hand out of his trousers and pushing it away. "I dare you to say the alphabet backwards in under 30 seconds."

"The alphabet?" Sherlock huffed. "Dull."

"Go on."

"Why?" 

John leant over and grabbed the detective's wrists, he pinned them to his sides as he snogged him thoroughly. 

"Alright, John. You win."

"Z, Y, W, U, T, S-"

"No, no, wait. I said the alphabet. Not whatever letters you felt like."

"That is the alphabet."

"You're 6 characters in," John pointed out. 

"So?" Sherlock rolled his eyes, the idiocy of normal people!

"You should be 8."

"What?"

"V and X."

Frowning, Sherlock asked, "What about them?" 

"They should be in your list."

Sherlock shook his head. "No."

"Yes."

He rolled his eyes again, deliberately being annoying. "They're boring. I must have deleted them."

"How can you of-"

"They're irrelevant. Taking up brain space."

"If two letters clog up your brain then you've got a very small one."

Sherlock huffed and glanced at his brother who was still focusing on his phone. "Haven't you got your own dare to be getting on with?"

John inclined his head. "Touché."

The three of them got to their feet and headed towards the bathroom, leaving Mycroft to figure out the message on his own. 

When they returned, Greg had snatched John's phone and was in the process of uploading it to his blog so the doctor couldn't wiggle out of it. 

"I am not twerking!" Mycroft snapped in his boyfriend's direction, having deciphered the message on his phone at last, it had taken him longer than he'd expected. 

It didn't take much longer for both John and Greg to burst out laughing. 

Sherlock just settled himself beside the doctor, looking confused. "What's 'twerking'?"

John shook his head, trying to contain his mirth. "It's fine, Sherlock, it's not important."

"But its-"

John leant over to kiss him, not wanting to explain about the craze and wanting to shut him up at the same time. 

"Fine," the detective huffed, when John pulled back. "But it's my go."

The blond nodded. "Fine," he agreed. 

"Truth or dare, Mycroft."

"Truth."

"Did you steal all the chocolates out of my advent calendar when I was 6?"

Greg barked a laugh. "How on earth did he do that without you noticing?"

Mycroft inclined his head in his brother's direction. "Yes, I did. You were being a brat and deserved it."

"You opened all the doors on the front?"

Mycroft shook his head, "No, Sherlock had informed Mummy that I had a boyfriend. I wanted to annoy him. So I steamed open the bottom and slid the tray out, hardly difficult."

"But you did have a boyfriend!"

"Sherlock, I was 13, I didn't know if I was gay or not."

"Well Mummy always knew. She went mental when she found out you were in a relationship and didn't tell her."

"I was in Eton, it wasn't like I was coming home all the time."

"Anyway," John cleared his throat. "It's my go." He was watching Mycroft so the government official took the hint. 

"Truth or dare?"

John made a point of taking his time. "Dare," he wasn't risking any more truth questions. 

"Ok… I dare you to phone Donovan and order 50 cheese and chocolate pizzas."

"What?"

Behind him, Sherlock was tipping his head on one side, genuinely wondering if his husband would play. 

Eventually, John shrugged. "Ok. Mycroft, I'll use your phone. I'm fairly sure she has my number." He glared pointedly at Sherlock. 

"It's not my fault!"

"You gave it to her as an experiment, you sod, of course it's your fault."

John let the DI put Donovan's number into the phone before he hit ring. 

"Hello?"

John covered the speaker while he sniggered. 

"Could I have 50 cheese and chocolate pizza's please. 12 inches."

"Who is this?"

"50. Within the next 20 minutes if possible," John glanced towards his husband who was struggling to contain himself. 

"Who is this?" Donovan's voice was much louder on repeat. 

This time, the doctor's laugh could be heard. 

"John Watson?"

"Shit!" John hung up and threw the phone at Greg as if he was trying to hide from it. 

"Maybe you should have videoed Mycroft twerking," John suggested. "It would have been hilarious."

Sherlock was staring at Greg, not moving his intense glare away. 

"What?" The DI snapped eventually. 

"Truth or dare?"

"Dare."

"No. You can't do dare."

Frowning, he asked, "why not?"

"Because I want to ask you a question."

Sighing, the DI inclined his head, "Fine. Truth." He was far too tolerant of the younger Holmes. 

"Is Mycroft your first boyfriend?"

Greg looked away, smirking slightly. "No."

"What?" Mycroft sat upright in his chair. "What do you mean no?"

"I met a boy I liked at university. Before I got married."

"You got married to a woman, knowing you were gay?"

"Yes. My mother wasn't very… forgiving 20 years ago."

"And now?" Mycroft asked.

Greg leant over and kissed his boyfriend. "And now, I've found someone too important to let what she thinks matter."


End file.
